Chapter 29

Chapter Twenty-Nine

River

BY THE TIME I return to the café, my aura is bright enough to glow.

I can’t see it, but I can feel it. When I head into the café, Cameron, who’s working at the coffee bar, furrows his brows and leans away, like my energy is too bright for him to behold. He may not believe, but he feels the effect all the same.

Henry appears from the back room and flashes a dazzling smile the moment he sees me. He also may or may not believe in auras and energy the way I do, but he’s such an open, earnest person that the waves reach him easily.

“You’re back,” Henry says. “We missed you.”

“It’s only been a few days,” I say.

It’s felt like both forever and no time at all. It’s Thursday, I think, though time has become a nebulous concept. Clark and I have hardly left my bed since Saturday. We’ve ordered food and shut out the world; Clark even called out of work. All so we could spend every possible second between Saturday and today exploring each other and connecting on a level I wouldn’t have dreamed possible a week ago.

I’m still floating, and when the little orange cat at the café rubs my ankles in greeting, I scoop him up in my arms and nuzzle into his soft fur. He’s no substitute for the beautiful man waiting to see me again, but Clark and I eventually agreed that we had to do things other than touch each other, so I’m glad to see Orange all the same.

“So I’m guessing things went well with Clark,” Cameron says, innuendo dripping off every word.

He may like to poke and prod, but I have nothing to hide. “Very well, in fact.”

Henry claps and bounces on his toes. “I’m so glad. You look so happy, River.”

“I am,” I confess.

It’s not much of a confession. With how I wear my heart on my sleeve, I’m sure even a stranger on the street could pick up on the happiness radiating off me. I’m trying to temper it, to tell myself this is only the start, but it feels like so much more. Clark didn’t just stay for the night. When he made the decision to call out of work, I knew something had shifted — permanently. He opened for me like a flower blooming in the sun, and I’m not about to let him go back to the closed down, dreary routine he clung to for so long out of fear. No matter how long it takes, I’ll strip away every last vestige of the shell he cocooned himself inside in order to hide from the outside world. We made a lot of progress these past several days, and there’s only more to come.

“I need to get ready for my class,” I say.

Cameron rolls his eyes. “Yeah, you better. We’ve been getting calls non-stop about when you were coming back.”

“I’ll do some extra classes next week to make up for it.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Henry says. “I’m sure your students will just be happy to see you.”

“Or angry,” Cameron says.

I ignore his pessimism as I make my way to the back room, depositing Orange on the cat tree along the way. My students certainly have every right to be angry after I abruptly canceled a slew of classes. So does Chloe, in fact. Even if I had to field all the upset calls myself, however, I wouldn’t change a thing about the past several days.

I’d be a fool to pick work over love.

I leave my personal effects in the staff room and head into the yoga area to stretch and breathe and center myself. It’s difficult to concentrate, but I push my focus to the present. By the time students filter in, I’m ready to greet and lead them.

I flow through the class, hardly feeling the time pass. There’s another class soon after it, and a third later in the day. Every time, someone asks me about my absence, and I give them a vague answer about needing some time with family. It’s as close to the truth as I’m willing to provide. Besides, I like describing Clark as my family. And…

With all my classes done, I retrieve my stuff from the back room and pet Orange one more time. The sweet little kitten purrs and flops over for me, and that word trickles back into my mind. Family. What does a family look like? Is it only the people you’re related to? Or could it mean so much more than that?

Cameron is eager to close up the café and go see his boyfriend, and so am I. I help him clean up and close, then we head off in our separate directions, him just a short way down I-5 and me all the way to Seattle, where I park in the garage beneath a towering apartment building. When I head up the elevator to the twenty-second floor, Clark is already waiting for me in the hallway.

“This was the longest work day of my life,” he says.

I smile and stride to him, kissing him before bothering with words. I may have tasted these very same lips this morning, but the hours between then and now have rendered them delightfully surprising.

“Me too,” I say.

Clark’s smile twists one side of his mouth. His eyes flicker down for a moment before he takes my hand and tugs me into his apartment. It’s sparse and clean, exactly as I would have expected, but there are a couple signs of disorder here and there. A jacket thrown over the couch. A mug left out on the coffee table. Clark grabs a plastic bag on the kitchen counter before pulling me into the attached living room.

“I ordered us some Indian food,” he says. “There’s a really good place a couple blocks from here.”

He sets the bag on the table and starts digging through it, but I drift past him to the sliding glass door at the far end of his apartment. When he notices, he stops his rummaging and joins me, slipping an arm around my waist.

“Not bad, is it?” he says.

I can hardly speak. The view leaves me breathless, my eyes scanning the glittering horizon. All of Seattle sweeps out before me, lights flickering on as people arrive home from work and settle in for the evening. The buildings shrink the farther out they go, until they give way to the piers at the edge of the sound. Seattle’s giant Ferris wheel churns slowly, lights racing up and down the metal arms and reflecting on the water, where ferries trundle toward the islands on the horizon. The sky blazes above all of this, streaked in red and purple as the sun dips beneath the water like a rainbow melting against the glass doors.

“It’s incredible,” I say at last.

Clark chuckles beside me. “It is. Doesn’t come cheap though. I’ve been wondering how long I want to pay for the privilege of this view.”

I glance down at him. We’ve talked about a lot these past few days, including what our future together might look like, but this is the first time he’s even hinted at living somewhere other than Seattle. I’d accepted I’d make this drive a lot in the coming years.

“It’s a long drive, isn’t it?” he says.

“It’s not that long.”

“It could be shorter though.”

I tiptoe along the path he’s setting out before us. He knows I don’t want to live in a city, that I prefer small towns like Tripp Lake that offer easy access to nature.

“It could,” I say.

Clark turns to face me, taking my hands in his. The sunset bathes us in ethereal light as we stand at the top of the city gazing only at each other.

“You’ve already shown me so much,” Clark says. “So many things I was missing, so many things I thought I could live without. Now that I’m here, I don’t want to look back. I want to keep exploring. With you. I want to take more leaps. It’s not scary if you’re with me.”

My heart melts, as warm and syrupy as that sunset dripping down the sky. “Are you sure?”

Clark nods. “I don’t want to spend all my time driving back and forth. I want to spend my time with you. Besides, didn’t you say our family was going to grow soon?”

A smile twists my mouth. “It might. That depends. There’s paperwork and stuff.”

“I know, but we’ll figure it out.”

We will. Not just the paperwork, but the distance, the driving, the future, all of it. Our divergent circumstances certainly pose certain obstacles, but I don’t fear them anymore — and evidently neither does Clark. The hands holding mine are steady and sure, not a drop of anxiety quavering through them. It hardens the certainty in my heart.

“We will,” I say aloud.

Then I kiss him in front of the door, kiss him as though we have nothing but time. Because for once, we do.

“ONE MORE FORM,” CHLOE says, sliding the paper across the counter.

I fill in the blanks on the paperwork before passing it back to her. She scans it quickly, then grins at me.

“That’s it. You’re all set.” She scoops up the little orange kitten, kissing the top of his head. “Ready to go home, Orange?”

The kitten mewls as though in response, and Chloe hands him to me. I cradle him against my chest, where he immediately starts purring. Clark reaches over from beside me to scritch his head, and Orange licks his fingers in response.

Chloe gives us a cat carrier and some food and toys that we bought when we paid the adoption fee, but I keep holding Orange in my hands as Clark and I head to his car. The little guy doesn’t make any kind of fuss, purring happily as I hold him the whole way back to my apartment.

The moment we’re inside, I set Orange on the couch. We already got him food and water, as well as a litterbox, but it’s definitely a tight fit in such a tiny space. Still, he bumbles around, exploring his new home fearlessly.

“I think he likes it here,” I say.

Clark wraps an arm around my waist and leans his head against my shoulder as we watch the kitten investigate his surroundings.

“He’ll be happier at the new place,” Clark says. “Maybe we should have waited.”

I shake my head. “Someone would have adopted him for sure. We were lucky he was still there. Besides, he’s young. He can still adapt.”

“Are you saying old cats can’t adapt?”

I smirk down at him. “Sometimes they can, but it takes a lot more effort.”

Clark laughs, easily and openly. It’s only been a few weeks, but he does that a lot more often now than when I first met him. His smiles come more frequently, and he doesn’t look like he’s biting them back. We’re moving in together next month, building a home and a life side by side. Clark said everyone at work was shocked when he announced he was leaving, but Megan has promised to keep in touch. What would have once been a terrifying prospect for Clark has become a source of joy. As soon as we move in, we plan to throw a house warming party with some of his old co-workers, as well as my friends at the café.

Improbably, our lives are intertwining, building into something greater than either of their individual parts. We’re making our own path through the world, and Clark is walking it as fearlessly and joyfully as me.

Orange gets stuck between the couch cushions, and Clark rushes to rescue him. We settle on the couch with the cat in our laps. Orange starts kneading at my thighs, his little claws sticking in my pants.

“I think he’s happy here,” Clark says.

“He isn’t the only one.”

I turn Clark toward me by the chin to kiss him. He comes to me without hesitation, letting himself soak up this closeness, this connection we’re building day by day.

“I can’t believe I thought I was too old for this,” Clark says with a chuckle.

“You’re never too old to be happy,” I say.

“I know that now, but at the time, it felt better to keep hiding behind work. It felt safer.”

“I know.”

I can’t promise him perfect safety and security. The life we’re about to embark on involves risks and uncertainty. That’s unavoidable as we merge our lives. But Clark’s aura shines with surety today, and if I had to guess, I’d say mine is just as bright.

Our future isn’t a straight line. It isn’t a well-trod path we can shut our eyes and follow without thought. It wavers. It bends. It loops back on itself.

And it’s all the more beautiful for that.